Dumbledore chooses happiness over safety
by ShaiGar
Summary: What if Albus Dumbledore had chosen Harrys happiness, over his safety?
Dumbledore choses Harrys Happiness.

"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?" "Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?" "I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.

"Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry - every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"No. I won't have it. I'm certain that these muggles who are spoiling their son terribly would be very abusive to a magical child. It doesn't matter that Lily would never have confided in me, the strict Authoritarian head of house whether or not her sister hated her. I have a feeling in my bones."

"Ah - No, you're right of course, we should ignore the blood wards that have been created based on Lilys sacrifice that would protect him as long as he's with her blood relatives, in favour of his happiness. I do apologise Minerva for not seeing the right of it."

Professor McGonagall peered at Dumbledore for a moment and relaxed "It's good that you're taking advice from your deputy headmistress, Albus. We should find a fine upstanding Pure-Blood family where he can be raised."

Headmaster Dumbledore sat down on the fence for a moment and thought, while absentmindedly tickling little baby Harry's feet.

"There's always Amos, he's not a member of the Order, but he is a fine man with a son only a few years older who could be a good brother."

"They live in Ottery St Catchpole, not far from Arthur and Molly, they've children around Harrys age as well. They could keep an eye on him for us, and be on hand to defend him if necessary."

"A very good idea Minerva" Professor Dumbledore agreed, handing the bundled baby back to Hagrid who took him with a tearfilled smile so large it threatened to light up the street in place of the street lamps.

"Hagrid, take him back to Hogwarts. Professor, you go with him, and help poppy keep an eye on him while I speak with the Diggorys"

Before Professor McGonagall could object, Dumbledore had vanished.

* * *

"We've caught that bastard" Professor McGonnagall hissed in triumphant rage, blood dripping down her arms and robe, no wounds apparrent. "Remus ripped Malfoys throat out."

"Harry's lost. The Diggorys house burnt to the ground with Fiendfyre, Amos, his wife and son all killed. I'm not sure I can find comfort in that." Albus sighed, sorrow etching his age into his face as he sat down.

Professor McGonnagall tried to lift some of his burden, saying "There was no more we could have done. You erected the greatest possible wards, and the Order responded almost instantly."

Albus looked at her "No. Not the greatest possible wards, those would have been Blood Wards made possible with Lilys sacrifice. He might not have been happy there, but so long as he survived unto adulthood, he would have had the chance to protect himself against these Death Eaters. Wizards live through to our mid to late second century, he would have had the chance to divest himself of those unhappy memories by forging new ones. And that's only supposing that a family who would spoil their son would abuse their nephew. That sort of mistreatment is rare amongst muggles. Fanfiction writers are morons for assuming it was a logical leap to assume, acting only with hindsight."


End file.
